


Hit and Run

by rawpickles



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 12:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10307372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawpickles/pseuds/rawpickles
Summary: Takaki had taken pity upon Inoo’s current poor living condition, and Inoo—unlike those who loathed such distressing looks sent over their way, had smiled gratefully (apparently his ego was overwhelmed by starvation and naive hopefulness).





	1. 1

It was a crisp, wintry season, as the crowded street bustled with activity. People rushed through the crowd with hasty paces, not caring in the slightest about their surroundings. Pedestrians strayed across the length of the street as Inoo sat by the curb, looking up at the faces of those who passed by. His stomach growled in dissatisfaction, but he had to hold his hunger in, until someone took enough pity upon him to offer some sort of edible objects, or if he was lucky enough— _money_.  
  
  
  
The rain poured, heavily so, it’d been occurring a lot lately, but it was not particularly uncommon in the midst of this winter season. Inoo sat still, as the sky pattered down his shoulder, sending the pure smell of nature inside his nostrils, the coldness drenching his body. It felt refreshing though, especially thanks to the moisture seeping through his dirty clothes, he hadn’t bathed for a long time anyway.  
  
  
  
It was supposed to be a somewhat moderate day for him, but apparently someone up there had desired for something else.  
  
  
  
Had life been different to both of them, if, let’s say—they’re not meant to be fated together, or whatever crap those romantic movies spewed nonsense about, maybe life would turn out…quite differently for both. Inoo, the helpless down-and-out, and Takaki, the powerful, affluent man. Quite a bit cliché for even the both of them, discovering each other’s presence amidst the pouring rain as Takaki held out an umbrella above Inoo’s head, Inoo confusedly gazed up at the silhouette of a bulky person before him.  
  
It probably was destined to be this way, and Inoo believed it within the core of his being. He was meant to be brought back to Takaki’s traditional house, to be Takaki’s guide, his _anchor_. If only Takaki knew that everything was just reversed, it’s Takaki that was Inoo’s guide, anchor, and much much more. If only.  
  
  
  
Takaki had taken pity upon Inoo’s current poor living condition, and Inoo—unlike those who loathed such distressing looks sent over their way, had smiled gratefully (apparently his ego was overwhelmed by starvation and naive hopefulness), as Takaki’s eyes widened in slight surprise at the gentle smile. After only a small talk, Takaki immediately offered him a shelter without seemingly much thought. Somewhere to live—an accommodation, _a home._ Inoo wasn’t hesitant, if anything, he was desperate, _excited._ He nodded a little enthusiastically. Takaki held out a hand, which he gladly took. There wasn’t much anything that Inoo had, so he left everything behind, and became adamant on starting anew.  
  
  
  
Takaki’s traditional house came into view and Inoo watched intently as the automatic gate opened, revealing a much wider front yard, and a set of well-landscaped garden surrounding the car path. Takaki’s _mansion_ was located in the middle of a rice field in the countryside, a perfect place to seek distraction from the hectic life of that in the city. The weather here was marvelously warm with just the right temperature, and he relished everything while it lasted, every breath of breeze upon his face, the outline of Mount Fuji basked in eerie fog, and the sweetness of the smile that came from his now-established friend.  
  
  
  
For a moment he thought of waking up from his dream, despite the slight tremor upon his mind, if this was ever a dream. The very thought of him dreaming everything up, was – honestly, frightening. Maybe he’d gone mental; maybe he’s imagining everything due to the uncontrollable desperation. Maybe, _maybe._  
  
  
  
But maybe it was merely real; maybe he was one of the lucky ones that were fortunate enough to be offered a home. Maybe it’s just his destiny. Or—well, _perhaps_ , Takaki was actually a yakuza that took in underage homeless people for the sake of entertainment. There was no doubt that Takaki was a yakuza anyway, if the two bodyguards of his, minus the driver, or the occupants from the SUV behind theirs, with similarly shining black, expensive suits, that looked too fancy for his liking were any indication at all. But the rich man had looked too kind, too gentle to be a sadistic psychopath.  
  
  
  
“We’re here.” Takaki broke the confusion swirling on his head. He nodded.  
  
  
  
His jaw dropped at the two rows of identical men kneeling down on the ground on each of Inoo as well as Takaki’s sides as he hopped down the car, welcoming their _master_ home with a rather enthusiastically loud yell. Takaki waved them with his hand, as they kept their heads bowed down in some form of undeniable respect and loyalty. Inoo stumbled to keep up the pace, and as his confusion grew by each passing minute, he felt himself became a little too self-conscious by the questioning gazes emanating from these men.  
  
  
  
“Don’t mind them.” Takaki said as his head slightly turned just barely to meet his eyes, Inoo gulped at the potentiality of how powerful Takaki could be.  
  
  
  
After what seemingly an endless journey just from the front yard to the inside, Inoo finally took in the prestigious atmosphere despite how traditional it was, as he basked in the most enormous _genkan_ he’s ever seen, been, or dreamed – for that matter, in his entire life. It’s huge, and as an array of shoes were organized neatly before him, he hesitantly took off his cruddy, disgusting pair of shoes, and he paused slightly as he picked up soft sounds of paddings gradually came closer, before a man of Takaki’s age appeared from the hallway.  
  
  
  
His appearance was different from the others, he noticed. This man radiated that of higher power, as he wore a traditional yukata, his _haori_ jacket adorned with an _ukiyo-e_ wave pattern, resembling _Hokusai’s_ design, however a bit less formal. His features were, okay, Inoo supposed, perhaps a bit on the handsome side. Okay, a little too much on the handsome side, but he wasn’t playing that team anyway.  
  
  
  
That man’s scrutiny upon Inoo was intense as he felt his cheeks reddening. Inoo’s head was bowed down to avoid any eye contact, also for the sake of respect. The man was intimidating, but in a whole different level from Takaki. He looked powerful, but intelligent, as Takaki seemed almost reckless, one of those _yakuzas_ that tended to act somewhat naturally, purely based on instincts. Takaki greeted him with a grunt, and proceeded to reason with him, kindly explaining the situation, and Inoo chanced to look up; just in time to see that man’s eyes almost bulged out his sockets incredulously. The man then, with a weary sigh, as if this was nothing new—then turned and landed his eyes upon Inoo, observing every inch of him. Inoo swallowed air, hoping it would ease his nervousness somehow, of course to no avail.  
  
  
  
“Inoo Kei, huh? What the fuck do you want with Takaki?”  
  
  
  
Inoo warily switched his gaze upon the two. What had he got himself into?  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Inoo had anticipated some kind of punishment that would be imposed on Takaki, or more likely himself, since he was the subject of lecture anyway. This man reprimanded Takaki like a mother would to her son, but Takaki was as hot-headed as he was, his reasoning had long since turned into nothing but half-yelling.  
  
  
“—I still don’t understand why someone as _dumb_ as you are going to be the next kumicho of the biggest yakuza organization in Japan!”  
  
  
“I didn’t even sign up for this shit! I’d rather be working as a clerk at some supermarket!”  
  
  
The conversation had shifted albeit slowly, strayed into an entirely different topic, which seemingly what they both had wanted to vent out. Minutes later, after what seemed to be an eternity later, they finally stopped. And Inoo was finally able to organize his worn shoes neatly beside the already well-ordered pairs, feeling his awfully out-of-place. His ears finally picked up the name of that intimidating man. Takaki had called him _‘Yabu’,_ and from his tone of voice Inoo could safely identify him as the _saikou-komon_ of the group, or in another term, senior advisor of the _kumicho_ —which surprisingly wasn’t Takaki himself.  
  
  
Rooms upon rooms they passed by, and Inoo finally arrived at a large rectangular room, large enough which could easily fit a hundred of grown-up men. The tatami mats felt soft beneath his feet, and the cushions upon it matched the colour of the walls. There, in the center, sat an old man in perhaps his sixty’s, guarded by four men who dressed similarly with the ones he saw earlier. Their postures stiff, hands clasped together in front, handgun holsters strapped tightly to their waists, hidden by their dark suit jackets.  
  
  
The old man (who Inoo supposed, was Takaki’s father, and the _oyabun_ himself) regarded Takaki with a motionless observance, his face devoid of any emotions, and then—with a flick of a hand, the women who sat not far from the intimidating kumicho immediately scrambled, quickly disappearing behind the _shoji_ partitions of the _zashiki,_ while Yabu quietly had left even before they reached this room. Inoo watched everything before him, deciding that everything that’s happened was by far—confusing, and he felt somewhat nervous under the old man’s intent scrutiny, perhaps he should’ve had thought about this twice. What if he were to be sold off to the market for prostitution? Although he didn’t look like a human trafficker, you never know what could happen in this set of circumstances.  
  
  
“Sit.” The old man broke his disarrayed thoughts; his voice radiated power and superiority, the tone held a certain roughness and rustiness from his age, however not lacking any less authority above the rest of the house occupants. Takaki sat immediately at the order in seiza, as Inoo wordlessly followed.  
  
  
“Yuya,” The old man regarded him first, and Inoo could see from his peripheral vision that he bowed slightly at the tone of his father. It was intimidating, and Inoo resorted to look down to his lap, idly fiddling his thumbs. “Explain yourself.”  
  
  
“Father—,” Takaki started, pausing ever so slightly, but continued. “I saw this man in an alley fighting thugs that weren’t supposed to be there, they barged into our territory and terrorized pedestrians, I simply lent a hand and chased them away for good. I gave them a warning before they ran off. I brought him back because we may need more fighters in our midst, as just a week ago; several of our yakuza members were killed by one of the Yamada-gumi subsidiary group. He’s homeless, father, we may use this man to our advantage.”  
  
  
Minus the homeless part, it was a big fat lie—Inoo didn’t understand why Takaki had to, but he supposed it was necessary to get into the oyabun’s good side. Maybe even get accepted into one of the syndicate regional groups, even if he lacked that physical ability that Takaki had kindly described to his father of him. He wasn’t built to fight. His lithe body was only capable of survive, not to attack. But he always wanted to learn martial arts, perhaps some karate or some other badass kick-ass moves.  
  
  
Takaki’s father nodded slightly, almost in some twisted pride, and Inoo glanced at him. The oyabun’s eyes were closed, as if he’s thinking, the smoking pipe kept spreading across him a certain essence that Inoo hated, however forced to bear. The old man would bring it between his lips, inhaling before puffing the smoke out from his nostrils. It was a long pause, so Inoo resorted his gaze back to his lap, finding it to be the safest view. Not long after the group of women Inoo saw earlier scrambled back in, bringing trays of drinks and light snacks, and that’s where Takaki stopped talking.  
  
  
Takaki’s father, with another wave of his hand, that seemed to motion some sort of sign to the women, says authoritatively, “You have to clean up. Everyone under this roof have to _behave_ —” His eyes darted to Takaki, almost warningly, before continuing. “—And _dress_ properly.” Inoo assumed that the oyabun was talking to him, so he looked up to meet his eyes.  
  
  
Inoo squirmed in his seat, and before he knew it—quickly dragged by the women to a large room at the back of the house. He let out a resigned sigh before allowing himself to be hauled. On his way to what he would call ‘the torture chamber’, he passed by a big opening that led to the garden in the middle. There was a koi fish pond in the middle that seemed to be the main feature, red bridge that stretched across, and of course, _shishi odoshi,_ a bamboo water feature that’s used to scare away birds with their clack sound that resounded every time the end crashes against the rock. Bamboos and other plants were also a part of the design, adorning the garden, heavily so on the edges.  
  
  
Inoo, if he would ever had the money, would’ve gone to architect school, as he’d always been fascinated by the artistic and modernistic features that buildings could bring out to the world. While poems and poetry, some other forms of art, are almost exclusively indoors, Inoo wanted to bring art outside, and from several buildings that he’d seen during his time living in the streets, needless to say he was marvelled by the outrageously beautiful designs of the buildings.  
  
  
He gazed upon the garden once more, and he smiled inwardly to himself. He didn’t realise that there was some kind of rock gardens that sat beyond the pond, the sand and gravel raked into some pattern to symbolise rivers, and the rocks portraying the illusion of seeing mountains from afar. All in all, it was marvelously eye-catching.  
  
  
“Your garden is very beautiful.” He found himself saying, smiling slightly to one of the nee-sans.  
  
  
“Takaki-sama wanted to bring out the nature side to our headquarters, so he and Yabu-sama designed the garden themselves.”  
  
  
“I see.” Inoo glanced sideways to her. “Are they close?”  
  
  
“Yes, of course. Yabu-sama has been with the family ever since Takaki-sama’s this small,” She used her hand for a rough estimation for Takaki’s height then, it was almost her waist. “They often play together, but bicker just as much. And now, you may not see it, but they’re as close as one can get. Their friendship truly runs deep—Ah, this way.”  
  
  
Inoo was led to a room in the right and arrived at a large space that was the bathroom, a huge tub in the middle, the glass doors were so clear he almost ran into it, if not for the women keeping him locked where he was. The bathroom, as the nee-san had kindly explained, was Takaki’s, and Inoo scrutinized around to find it a little bit more—modern than the rest of the house. Whoever designed it obviously took a minimalist reproach, with neutral colors that seemed to blend modern with traditional perfectly.  
  
Inoo yelped when one of the nee-sans grabbed his clothes to tear them apart, and he knew his ditry clothes bothered them. He let himself be ‘violated’—to a certain extent—by the nee-sans’ hands upon his body, and he was forced to stay still at the tub, as they scrubbed his body clean. Powerless, Inoo finally settled down and let them do their job. After bathing, they proceeded to cut away his hair, nails, all the while giggling to each other at the lack of facial hair, and also the one down there. Inoo then was led somewhere else and soon was dressed in an expensive silk light blue _yukata_ , and as he raised one of his foot to slip his toes onto the _geta_ , he felt a strange sense of immense happiness that made him slightly teared up.  
  
  
“Oya, are you okay?” The nee-san worriedly came over to look over Inoo’s teary eyes. He huffed a row of laughter, shaking his head slightly.  
  
  
“Happy. Just really happy.” He hicccuped, wiped the tears with the pad of his palm, not wanting to stain the expensive garment on his body. The nee-sans cooed on how cute he was, and he almost— _almost_ , wanted to pout, but all that painted his face was a smile, showing his row of unusual pearly white teeth.  
  
  
He was escorted to the living room, this time several yakuzas were occupying on the corner, talking. He thanked the nee-sans with a bow as they reciprocated as well, and later spotted Takaki in the corner talking almost animatedly with Yabu, who seemed to do nothing but nod once or twice every once in a while. Inoo came over with a small greet, and when Takaki looked up at Inoo, Takaki’s jaw visibly dropped.  
  
  
He marveled at how the colour of the yukata, ‘his’ yukata that Inoo’s now wearing, complimented everything, _everything_ , from Inoo’s silky black hair, pale skin, gentle black eyes, long slim fingers, narrow waist. As if he’s exclusively made for it. He swallowed a big lump on his throat, and he could see that Yabu was slightly out of breath as well.  
  
  
“You look…nice.” Takaki said instead, coughing to his fist as he felt his cheeks reddening.  
  
  
Blood rushing up to his cheeks, Inoo looked around to find some other yakuzas were ogling at him as if he was a piece of meat, and he instantly shuddered. Quickly he took a cushion and sat upon it _seiza_ -styled, feeling slightly, no—highly, uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze. Takaki seemed to notice this, and he smiled reassuringly gently at Inoo, patting the top of his head as if he just did something worth praising.  
  
  
“You’re so cute, nee-san!” Someone cooed from afar, and Inoo’s head turned to face them with an indignant glare. Who’re they calling cute?! Wait, who the hell are they calling a nee-san!?  
  
  
He huffed, deciding not to voice out his thoughts. They’re yakuzas, after all, he’d be dead before he could manage until midnight. He instead looked upon Yabu’s state, and he wasn’t faring much, if his reddened cheeks were any better, and Inoo’s gaze fell down upon the cup that’s protectively clutched with his palm. Maybe Yabu’s just intoxicated from the sake. That must be it.  
  
  
Minutes later, they were ushered to another room right beside the living room. The dining room walls were similar from the room before, a traditional ink-wash painting hung on the wall, with red and white plum colours decorating the Japanese paper. There was a dark wooden table at the corner that served as decoration; a box of glass sat atop, and what’s inside was a black shiny _katana_ from the _koto_ period. Inoo was tempted to go over and inspect closer, but even if he was homeless, he knew basic manner. So with great forbearance, he followed one of the yukata-worn women and sat on top of a _tatami zaisu_ chair, noticing that this time it’s pearly white coloured as the back is hinoki cypresse, a traditional wood often used for furnitures. The women—with such elegance and femininity that slightly baffled Inoo, poured down sake on silver sterling cups that glistened against the light above them.  
  
  
He stared as other women came and served big portions of food in large plates, setting them up in the middle of the _zataku_ table, and his eyes wandered over to the food sitting in front of him. Piles upon piles of food, with all their aroma puffing out upwards in soft steam, trailing towards Inoo’s nostrils and he inhaled every bit of smell, finding himself liking what he saw, or smelled—very much. These could feed even fifty people—which was not surprising considering how many people lived in this mansion. Inoo’s mouth watered—as his eyes followed along the women’s movement, moreover, the aroma that tickled his nostrils.  
  
  
_“Itadakimasu!”_ Takaki clasped his hands together as his thumbs clutched the wooden chopsticks, and eventually dug into the pyramid of food, while the _kumicho_ decided to merely sip on his sake after shooing the women away with a wave of a hand. His pipe was suddenly nowhere to be found, Inoo faintly noticed this, however not a second later shrugged it off and proceed to dig into his food and brought it to his mouth.  
  
  
Inoo kept glancing back and forward, to Takaki and then to his father as they ate silently. Feeling himself wanting to break the rather awkward silence, he found himself blurting out a question without thinking, “So, Takaki-sama, how old are you?”  
  
  
Wrong move, his mind warned him, as literally everyone stopped at whatever they’re doing. He looked to where oyabun sat, his face unreadable, but not much difference from earlier. Yabu seemed comforted with the presence of his cup of sake, which he took sips from. Takaki seemed to stare at him, not providing any evidence of incredulity, but perhaps a little surprised. The rest of the yakuza members, however, stared at him like he’d grown a second head.  
  
  
Inoo shook his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I-I’m sorry if I said som—”  
  
  
“I believe he’s asking you a question, Yuya.” The oyabun, not meeting anyone’s eyes—spoke.  
  
  
“Ah…yes.” He bowed respectfully to his father before looking to Inoo, observing him carefully before replying with a low, serious tone. “I turned twenty four this year.”  
  
  
The oyabun grunted, then turned to stare at Inoo instead. Panicked, Inoo babbled almost instantly at Takaki. “I’m twenty four too! Well, last June. Twenty second of June. That’s my uh—birthday. Mm.”  
  
  
“That’s great.” Takaki smiled, while Inoo chose to pick at his food.  
  
  
And with that, the rest of Inoo’s dining experience was history.  


* * *

  
  
Inoo was inside his room (guest room) when Yabu summoned Takaki for a meeting. To his surprise, his appointed room was located right in front of the garden, directly facing it and was only separated by a _fusuma,_ a traditional Japanese sliding door. Inoo sat by the hallway, the raised level of the house causing Inoo’s legs to dangle upon the edge. His eyes look up to the dark sky and his mouth formed a small ‘o’ at his surprising discovery.  
  
  
The mash of colours; molten, sequin, and silver coming from the stars were mesmerizing as they scattered across the sky like moon dusts, gleaming and twinkling happily upon the cloudless sky in the dead of night. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe somewhere hidden behind the roof, but it’s something Inoo couldn’t seem to pay heed on.  
  
  
He sighed dreamily as he thought back to his knight in shining armor. Takaki Yuya was handsome, dorky, and cute at the same time. Those mixed together were unlikely compatible, but there’s nothing else to describe him at all. With his high cheekbones and sharp, obsidian eyes, Inoo would guess that women flock to him all the time for that mystique aura that seemed to enthrall not only to one gender, but both men and women. The way Takaki seemed to respect highly of his father was rather cute, and the way he instructed his underlings was particularly—dare he say, sexy.  
  
  
It wasn’t love at first sight. Inoo wasn’t gay in the first place; he hadn’t had any girlfriends in the past, no anyone _really._ So needless to say, he had been slightly sexually frustrated. He’s a man after all, and his testosterones ran high. But Takaki had been different, he’s so attractive that even Inoo fell for his charm. The sight of Takaki’s masculinity sparked something inside him that made him want to, want to—  
  
  
—But it’s not possible, was it? A man like he, homeless, poor, low in status, a nobody, would ever be compatible with a rich, strong, sexy man like Takaki Yuya.  
  
  
Inoo sighed, so deep in thought that he had been unaware of a presence of someone else beside him. The slight rustle that came from Takaki was the only thing that snapped him back to reality. He gasped with a surprise and looked up at Takaki smiling down at him. “W-What are y— Where did you come from?”  
  
  
“Meeting.” Takaki said, his smile still on his lips. “Enjoying the view? It really is beautiful here, isn’t it? The night skies are always like this regardless of the season. I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable living here. I can assure you that it’s better than the street.”  
  
  
Inoo sighed, looking down to his lap in forlorn. “I—I don’t think I belong here, Takaki-sama—”  
  
  
“Just Takaki is fine,” The yakuza intercepted, “You belong here as much as the rest of us do.” Takaki brought his hand to Inoo’s right ear, brushing a wild strand back to tuck it behind his ear. “Just trust me, Inoo.”  
  
  
Inoo shivered slightly as the hand came into contact with his cheek, albeit briefly. It was the first time anybody would treat him like a delicate flower. Inoo’s frame may be lean and slim, but he had gotten into fights once in a while, it’s something not unusual when you lived in the street anyway. But this special treatment that Takaki had showered him with, was a welcome, albeit slightly embarrassing.  
  
  
“I just don’t understand, why did you—” pick me?  
  
  
Takaki found a way to be in contact with Inoo’s hand, grasping it lightly, and Inoo duly noted that when Takaki took his hand, the yukata shifted, showing a tattoo on his wrist. “I don’t know, I just saw you sitting there, all drenched from the rain—looking as if nothing mattered anymore. You might not know this, but contrary to popular belief, yakuzas aren’t that much of an asshole, only when you really aggravate them.”  
  
  
  
Inoo chuckled, hovering a free hand over his mouth in a polite manner as Takaki stared. “You’re—it’s unbelievable, I mean—no offense, but, homeless people aren’t supposed to know, mm—basic manner.”  
  
  
“It just happens naturally, I guess,” Inoo shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot about it from TV.”  
  
  
“TV?”  
  
  
“Yeah, I—” Inoo bit his lip. “I used to have a home. But it’s gone now—anyway, doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past, I don’t really want to talk about it.”  
  
  
“Hey,” Takaki gently lifted Inoo’s chin to meet his black eyes. “I’m here, okay? Whenever you want me. I can be a very good listener, I am the best even, everyone comes to me for advices all the time, that’s how good I am.”  
  
  
Inoo smiled, his cheeks reddened at the mere centimeters that separate his mouth from Takaki’s. “T-Thank you, for everything.”  
  
  
When Takaki ruffled his hair afterwards, Inoo threw all common sense and relied on pure instincts. Inoo could do nothing but to lean forward and eventually, rested his lips upon Takaki’s chapped ones.  
  


* * *

  
  
The _suzumushi_ outside his chamber cricketed loudly, but the room was gloomier due to his current state of mind on havoc. His eyes flickered to the ceiling, and then to what’s across his futon. Millions of things were running through his mind at the same time that he had trouble processing each one. Takaki sighed loudly. The accident earlier left him speechless even now, it had been so sudden that Takaki was shocked to even react.  
  
  
From Inoo’s hurtful eyes, Takaki knew he’d somewhat upset the pale man by his lack of response. To his defense, this was entirely an unforeseen action, and coming from a man who he saved and met on the very same day, no less. First and foremost, he was a _yakuza_ —thus he had a duty to be aware of his surroundings even in his own house, so why had he been—so careless?  
  
  
Takaki stirred and turned, finding his eyes locked upon the alarm clock beside him that displayed the time with its minimal backlight. To his surprise, it was already 4 o’clock in the morning. He felt more awake now, and if anything, he's growing restless; desperately racking his brain on ways to approach Inoo later to enquire about what had possessed Inoo to do— _that,_ to him out of the blue.  
  
  
Inoo was— _beautiful,_ that’s for sure, he's someone that Takaki had never met before. It’s certainly a plus that his gentle and kind personality wrapped the whole package together. All in all, Inoo was perfect in every way. But the only problem was of course—lies to the fact that he’s a _man,_ and growing up around this kind of environment, to this family’s customs, it was unacceptable to even think about it. Takaki’s family was as traditional as one could get, especially with his lifestyle—  
  
  
Takaki slapped himself at the thought, was he even thinking of being together with Inoo? Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
  
  
He had to have a talk with Inoo tomorrow; he made his resolve and closed his eyes to rest them a little bit.  
  
  
In no time, he was already slumbering soundly, accompanied by the ever-faithful sounds of suzumushi in the garden outside his room.  
  
  
  
  
**. . .**  
  
  
Takaki awoke by a harsh shove on the stomach as he groaned loudly to his pillow that's now on top of him. He prompted to kick off the mysterious person to make him go away, but before being able to do so, the man in question wrenched the _futon_ blanket away from Takaki and kicked him squarely in the crotch.  
  
  
“Motherfu—!” Takaki’s hand immediately flew to where his balls were, silently counting if they were still there. This fucker was definitely dead.  
  
  
He threw the pillow to whoever’s that was, not caring in the slightest if he was the freaking prime minister. But he finally found his answer when a loud, “Dumbass!” was said harshly from the man, and Takaki opened his eyes to see Yabu staring down at him, all dressed nicely and of course, looking real pissed.  
  
  
“The fuck?!” Takaki asked, his voice menacingly sharp and full of warning, unlike anyone who just barely woke up.  
  
  
“It’s Inoo-san,” Yabu calmly explained, Takaki widened his eyes slightly. “Oyabun saw you _both_ —last night. You should’ve known better.”  
  
  
There was disappointment lacing Yabu’s tone that made Takaki flinch, but more than anything else, he was worried for Inoo. He knew Inoo did nothing wrong, he basically had done that in pure instinct, if Inoo’s gasp and surprised expression after the kiss was any indication at all. And he knew Inoo had no idea what kind of trouble he would get into if they were to get caught.  
  
  
As Takaki racked his brain to find out how to deal with this unforeseen problem, Yabu beat him to it, “Go to oyabun, he’s in the drawing room, I’d suggest you have some sort of alibi—if you had one _at all_ , and prepare for the worst. Wouldn’t want our little boy to be sent back to the street now, would we?”  
  
  
There was a sadistic yet sarcastic tone that didn’t go unnoticed by Takaki, but he refused to comment on it. Takaki wordlessly stood, and promptly shooed Yabu out with a wave. He went to his dresser and changed his clothes.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, Inoo was nervous.  
  
  
His face was terribly pale and white under the oyabun’s narrowed eyes. He couldn’t help but feeling worried for his life, having no idea whatsoever why he was summoned all of a sudden, and at six o’clock in the morning, no less. Was there a schedule or something on when to summon guests? Inoo had thought hard on the reason the oyabun demanded his presence and not being told anything at all so far. What were they waiting for anyway?  
  
  
Judging by the oyabun’s expression, which showed some kind of slight irritation, Inoo guessed that it probably was because of Inoo’s lack of manner the day before, like the time when he had asked Takaki in the dining room out of the blue, disrespecting the oyabun. Or—Inoo _assumed,_ that it would be because of the kiss, which he supposed, was something Takaki wasn’t really consented to.  
  
  
“Inoo _-san_ ,” Takaki’s father called him, and Inoo was brought back to reality. “I’ve heard from one of my men—that you and Yuya were doing something last night, that we would call, highly _inappropriate,_ in our tradition. Are you aware of that?”  
  
  
Inoo widened his eyes, but his posture didn’t turn stiff in surprise, if anything, he’d expected this. “Yes,” He said calmly, didn’t know where that bravery came from.  
  
  
“Ah.” The oyabun brought his smoking pipe to between his lips, then puffed out the smoke from his mouth. “—Then you are aware of what would befall you and him, boy?”  
  
  
“Yes.” Inoo wasn’t. He didn’t know yakuza’s traditions, but he wasn’t scared, if he didn’t have anything to lose, then why would he be?  
  
  
“So you do not care in the slightest, of what punishment would be imposed to my son?”  
  
  
Inoo looked up at him questioningly. “What do you—”  
  
  
“ _Yubitsume._ ” The oyabun said, and this time, Inoo visibly stiffened. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”  
  
  
Inoo was silent for the longest time, but eventually nodded.  
  
  
_Yubitsume_ was the act of cutting off a part of the fingers, the word meant finger shortening, and it’s their customs to cut a part of the little finger. This gruesome act would be conducted whenever the members highly offended the _kumicho_ , either that—or for them to show apology and display immense regret. Inoo bit his lip as his blood ran cold, slightly tearing up.  
  
  
Despite the turmoil in his head, his expression didn’t falter. “With all due respect, Takaki _-dono_ ,” With this he inhaled oxygen, hoping it’d ease him slightly. “I was the one who was doing the act upon him—Takaki-sama, I mean. If anything, please punish me however you see fit.”  
  
  
“So you’re telling me,” The oyabun exhaled the smoke once more, settling the smoking pipe down on his lap. “That you’ve forced yourself on my son?”  
  
  
Inoo this time looked away from the intensity displayed from the most powerful man in Japan, his body shook slightly, but he was adamant on telling the truth. There was a thick atmosphere hung within the air, as everyone stayed silent. Inoo finally looked up again at the old man’s unwavering gaze. “Yes, I did.”  
  
  
“Uh, actually, I did.”  
  
  
Everybody turned to the new presence in the room.  
  
  
“Yuya, how nice of you to join us,” The oyabun motioned to him to come closer.  
  
  
The air was choking him, and the room was suddenly too small and people were suddenly too close. He wanted to vomit at his nervousness, or to run far from here, whatever's more convenient for him. This was killing him. Inoo looked down to his lap, both of his hands had long since turned into fists upon his lap, positive that if he were to meet Takaki’s eyes, he’d lose it for sure.  
  
  
From the rustling, he was aware that Takaki had picked up a cushion to sit right beside him, and the sudden touch upon his shoulder certainly made Inoo shudder violently. And he choked, finding it difficult to breath, all he wanted to do was to apologise to Takaki for this stupid mistake of his. Inoo wasn’t even sure what had taken control of his body to daringly kiss Takaki in the mouth last night; it was so stupid of him.  
  
  
“You’re stupid.” Inoo whispered to Takaki, and from his peripheral vision he could see Takaki’s questioning gaze upon him. With the last remnants of his power he could muster, he clutched his thighs with his fists, looking up to meet the oyabun’s eyes once more, looking more determined than before. “I did it. Takaki-sama’s lying, punish me, not him. He’s innocent, a victim—”  
  
  
“Wait, Inoo—”  
  
  
“It’s my fault, Takaki-dono.”  
  
  
“Inoo!”  
  
  
“Shut up and let me finish, _Takaki!”_ Inoo finally snapped at him, losing control all of a sudden.  
  
  
What’s surprising was the oyabun’s sudden chuckle resounding across the drawing room. Inoo stared at him blankly, and Takaki was positively looking scared for his life. Literally everyone in the room was shocked and did nothing but to stare, torn between rushing to help the oyabun’s sudden action or run for their lives.  
  
  
“Interesting,” The oyabun was still chuckling, inhaling the smoking pipe once more. “You’re interesting, Inoo-san.”  
  
  
Inoo and Takaki blinked bemusedly.  
  
  
“I certainly didn’t expect you to be this— _straightforward._ ” The old man said. “Very well, I’ll forgive you this time, Inoo-san, but there won’t be a next time.”  
  
  
Inoo nodded. “I—I won’t,” He glanced sideways to where Takaki sat, nodding to himself. “—do it again.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Later that evening, Inoo was called by the oyabun and introduced to Takaki’s personal bodyguard. He’s a tall, nice and funny guy, looking more or less like your normal, friendly college guy (his style’s rather casual, with simple t-shirt and jeans), and obviously much less traditional. Needless to say, when Inoo first saw him, he knew that they could be very close friends. Yaotome Hikaru was his name, and Inoo bowed at him respectfully, earning a laugh from him.  
  
  
“Dude. Come on. There’s no need for formality.” He waved his hand. “So whatcha’ up to?”  
  
  
Inoo stared at him for the longest time, before replying softly. “Nothing, just watching the garden, and all that.”  
  
  
“Yaotome will be teaching you martial arts today.” The oyabun suddenly spoke up, reminding Inoo of his presence. “If you’re going to stay here, might as well teach you a thing or two. Yaotome.”  
  
  
Yaotome nodded at the oyabun, “Roger that, Takaki-dono, I’m sure we’ll have a fun time. Right, Inoo _-chan_?”  
  
  
“There’s no need for –chan, really.” Inoo mumbled, but nodded. Yaotome quickly ushered him out the drawing room before Inoo stopped on his tracks, turning around to face Takaki’s father. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Takaki-dono. I won’t disappoint you.”  
  
  
The oyabun felt a smile tugging upon his lips when he saw Inoo disappearded behind the fusuma partition. That man was truly one of a kind.  
  
  
Yaotome Hikaru was more or less, a chatty guy.  
  
  
He led Inoo to a totally different part of the house, this time they went across the red bridge of the garden, passing by the rock gardens and to his surprise found a separate building in the same compound. It was a multi-functional dojo (and Inoo wondered how big the mansion actually was) that yakuzas use to train martial arts in; Hikaru and Inoo walked in, a gi bag slung over their shoulders. Inoo listened intently to whatever Yaotome said as the bodyguard explained what the dojo was used for, occasionally replied whenever he’s asked. The smell of the dojo was oddly full of…rubber, perhaps from the dojo mat beneath his feet.  
  
  
Yaotome threw him a set of white set of clothing with some skirt-like pants. Inoo stared down at the crumpled clothes on his hands. “ _Hakama_?” Inoo asked eventually.  
  
  
“What all _aikidoka_ wear,” Hikaru explained. Inoo widened his eyes. “I’ll be teaching you basic techniques, Originally I’ve wanted to teach you _kendo_ , but Yabu recommended that I should be mentoring you _aikido_ instead of something else.”  
  
  
Inoo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yabu-sama did?”  
  
  
“Yup! Oh, speaking of which—Yabu’ll be coming by later to substitute me for a while; Takaki’ll be out for a meeting outside the HQ so I need to be there! Besides, I’ve been absent for a while so yeah…” His eyes formed a crescent shape as he smiled brightly, looking slightly sheepish. “…Anyway, let’s go change.”  
  
  
Inoo nodded—locating the changing room easily, he promptly changed his yukata.  
  
  
“ _Aikido_ is known to be very effective when it comes to self-defense, but as you may or not know—everything takes a little longer to get used to. So it will be a while until you get to be comfortable with it,” Yaotome explained as they both sat in the middle, _seiza_ -styled facing each other after they finished. “Techniques are quite easy, I don’t really remember how hard it was when I first started, but I can teach you a few tricks for you to learn it easier and faster, since those are bare necessity for us yakuzas.”  
  
  
  
“Understood,” Inoo replied simply, silently taking in the reflection of his form in the huge mirror ahead of him.  
  
  
Yaotome took Inoo’s hand and they both went into stretching. Yaotome taught him a little differently than the regular stretching that people usually do before exercises. Yaotome explained when Inoo asked him, “You’ll have a better understanding of your posture and how the parts of your body connected.”  
  
  
Inoo had no idea what that meant, but chose not to comment.  
  
  
“Firstly, _aikido_ doesn’t rely on strength, which both women or men can find very practical, the techniques are graceful, almost elegant, so I think I get the reason why it fits you, Inoo-chan.” Yaotome smiled again, then continued. “You might wonder why you need to know all this, but what’s important is you doing while knowing, rather than doing without knowing. Get what I mean?”  
  
  
As this time Inoo nodded in understanding, Yaotome explained more. “The meaning of aikido is literally, the way of blending with the energy around you. So remember that. Now I want you to stand up from your seiza.”  
  
  
Inoo blinked, but when he moved his leg, but Yaotome was so quick that Inoo missed the chance to see him smack Inoo hard in the calf, that made Inoo winced and immediately sat back in seiza. Yaotome’s expression had transformed into one that’s strict and serious. “That’s not how you do it, Inoo-chan. Try again.”  
  
  
Inoo, was frustrated by the lack of explanation of the technique, rather than the history itself. He tried again and again, until he was positive his calf was now red and bruised. He was adamant to do this single thing however. And besides, he had wanted this. If he couldn’t so something as simple as getting out and into a seiza, how could he handle a much more complex one in the future?  
  
  
After what seemingly a thousand attempts, Yaotome explained to him that it should come from the heart, another thing that Inoo found himself not understanding at all. “Everybody knows how to get out of a seiza, Inoo-chan.” No, they don’t, though, Inoo thought.  
  
  
When Inoo’s finally done something right, Yaotome applauded him, looking ecstatic, more or less like a proud sensei. Inoo smiled at him, feeling himself proud, although it was only something as trivial as standing up from a sitting position, as stupid as that sounded.  
  
  
Yaotome then proceeded to teach him _ukemi,_ basic _hanmi_ , and a bunch of other stuffs that Inoo didn’t really remember. It was a thoroughly exhausting exercise, and Inoo was taught a basic technique called _ikkyo_ —a part of the _tachizawa_ techniques—which basically meant frontal attacks while standing.  
  
  
It was when Yaotome went into depth about _ikkyo_ that Yabu came in, steps confident and almost arrogant as he strode inside, fully ignoring Inoo’s gaping face and Yaotome’s amused expression. He walked near to them and nodded to Yaotome, who looked back at him sheepishly.  
  
  
“Oh, already?” Yaotome then looked at Inoo, his expression was something akin to apologetic. “Sorry, Inoo-chan, we’ll continue this later. See you tomorrow?”  
  
  
“Thanks for today, Yaotome-sama.” Inoo softly said, smiling at him.  
  
  
“Oh, please. It’s nothing. I haven’t really got into the awesome stuffs, though. Ah. Yabu here has some really cool moves! He can teach you some! Right, Yabu-kun?”  
  
  
Yaotome poked Yabu in the cheek with his forefinger, earning a glare from the taller man.  
  
  
“Oh, shit. I gotta go. Bye guys!” And with that, he was gone.  
  
  
Inoo looked at everywhere but at Yabu, but Inoo gasped in surprise as Yabu was suddenly grasping Inoo’s wrist tight, that spun him around so that Yabu faced his back, and his arm was twisted, not to the point where it hurt, but he felt mostly embarrassment. “W-Wait—”  
  
  
“Don’t let yourself get distracted,” Yabu behind him said, voice huskier than usual. “Enemies are still enemies.”  
  
  
“You’re not though,” Inoo replied as-a-matter-of-factly, and he was released sooner than expected.  
  
  
When Inoo looked at him the eyes, he could feel that Yabu’s face was red, but before he could inspect further Yabu was already leaning back, creating space for both of them. And Yabu could feel the obvious disappointment coming from Inoo. “Start again,” Yabu suddenly prompted as he moved forward.  
  
  
“Start wha— _AH!_ ” Inoo’s right wrist was pulled by Yabu, which he then raised above his head as he fluidly turned around in such grace, and before Inoo knew it, he was already on the ground, arm locked behind his back as Yabu was suddenly in his seiza, his knee locking Inoo in his place.  
  
  
“ _Katatedori aihanmi_ technique.” Yabu whispered, “Remember that, newbie.”  
  
  
Inoo huffed. “If you’d do it slower this time—Ah!” Inoo’s elbow was bent all of sudden and it hurt like a bitch. “Why—Why’d you—?”  
  
  
“So that you won’t do anything stupid.” That seemed to have a double meaning.  
  
  
“Let me go, Yabu _-sama._ ” Inoo asked him, and when Yabu didn’t, he began to struggle. “Let me go!”  
  
  
“No,” Yabu’s harsh voice sent trembles upon Inoo’s frame. “Until you tell me what’s going on between you and Yuya.”  
  
  
Inoo stopped struggling. “There’s nothing going on.” He whispered. “He saved me, I owe him a big debt. Nothing more, nothing less. Now let me go.”  
  
  
“Lies,” Yabu said. “Tell me the truth.”  
  
  
“That’s the truth! What else do you want me to say? I felt grateful so I kissed him, that’s it!”  
  
  
“Do you like him?”  
  
  
Inoo fell silent. Then, “No”.  
  
  
“So you do.”  
  
  
Inoo spluttered. “I just said—!”  
  
  
“Then prove it.”  
  
  
Inoo widened his eyes; feeling terrified all of a sudden. “I won’t have sex with you.”  
  
  
“Not that, you idiot.” Yabu crossed his arms. “I don’t know, maybe—”  
  
  
“I don’t want to kiss you either.” Inoo shook his head.  
  
  
“I just taught you something, you should be grateful.”  
  
  
Inoo stared as if Yabu’d grown a second head, he must be joking. This was crazy. “I don’t kiss everyone I’m grateful at!”  
  
  
“But Yuya’s a special case?”  
  
  
“No! It’s just—” Inoo stuttered. “I—I don’t…”  
  
  
“Hm?”  
  
  
Inoo sighed, admitting defeat. Yabu got him on this one. “Fine.”  
  
  
Yabu blinked. “You sure?”  
  
  
“Yeah, you dumbhead. Now let me go!”  
  
  
Yabu released him and as soon as he did Inoo slumped downward, finally rested his head forward to press his cheek against the mat, feeling drained from the continuous struggle. He shifted, laying his back, now facing Yabu who was practically straddling him. Inoo felt wrong, but it should be okay, since he and Takaki—they’re never meant to be, anyway. Yabu was—well, he’s arrogant, rude, and a downright douchebag, and Inoo hated him sometimes.  
  
  
“You like me, don’t you?” Inoo asked as his eyes flickered to Yabu’s lips for a moment, who in turn did nothing but to stare down at him for the longest time.  
  
  
“…No.”  
  
  
“Right…” Inoo wasn’t stupid, Yabu must’ve felt some feelings for him, why would he request such a ridiculous thing if otherwise? Inoo got his elbows propped up and as he was going to lean upward to just briefly, very briefly, touched his lips upon Yabu’s ones, halted when he heard the silent mumble emanating from Yabu’s mouth.  
  
  
  
“…Because I like Yuya.”  
  


* * *

  
  
One, two, three, four, five seconds later.  
  
  
“…What?” Now this was news.  
  
  
  
Yabu was clearly hesitant; his lips froze slightly as he pondered upon what to say. Inoo watched thoughtfully as Yabu revealed himself. “But he never recognized me in the first place, and now you’re here and I just—I feel different and—” Yabu trailed off—eventually shook his head, his look telling Inoo that there wouldn’t be any more elaboration on his part. “Forget it.”  
  
  
  
Inoo was dumbfounded. He was more than certain that to ‘forget’ this kind of thing would be more or less, impossible. It’s already stored at the back of his mind, and it’s running with the thoughts of how to make a proper response to that information, also Yabu who’s now slowly rising to his feet, not caring in the slightest about the proper getting-out-from-seiza technique earlier Yaotome had taught him. Inoo was—for once, found himself rendered completely speechless.  
  
  
  
“Inoo-san, it’s been a pleasant evening for me to have been able to teach you. Thank you for your wonderful company. Please do take care as I’ll take my leave now.”  
  
  
  
And Inoo was alone, and felt even lonelier in this suddenly big, empty space, feeling like there was something amiss that he had failed to retrieve. His ass was suddenly hurting, so he leaned back to lie on the hard rubber mat. He rubbed his wrists idly; they were still throbbing from the way Yabu held them earlier. His eyes flickered to the ceiling, and came to a realisation that it would’ve gone better if he had just kissed Yabu and left that bit of information unsaid.  
  
  
  
Feelings were such difficult things to comprehend. If only they had textbooks for Inoo to read. These jumbled feelings that he had difficulties interpreting, the weird beating heart of his that exponentially jumped whenever the subject of his affection were in range. The weird— _sadness_ , which stuck upon him like glue, not knowing how to soothe, or even mend, these pieces of something that he himself didn’t know.  
  
  
  
  
Exhaustion looming around at the back of his mind, he closed his eyes, and soon, there was steady breath, slow rise and fall of chest, soft snore, and other indications that Inoo already succumbed to the exhaustion.  
  
  
  
(Not long after, amidst the darkness from the lack of lighting in the dojo, a silhouette appeared behind the sliding door. Soon there was a sound of sliding of a door, footsteps, a sigh, and rustling. And then silence. That night, the dojo was bereft of any human.)


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, wasn’t that the best decision he had made. That was a rhetorical question, of course.

Takaki opened his heavy eyelids, cursing at the sunrays that forced its way through the papery sliding door. The chirping of the birds was annoying, but nothing he couldn’t stand for the past twenty years. Perplexed and grumpy, he rose from his futon, only to find that his arm was numb from some object squeezing him atop it, he pulled his arm gently, but the object was far from letting him do as he wished. He wrenched the blanket away to finally reveal who would’ve dared to force himself on him, and for a moment, mesmerised—he found himself not minding the intrusion at all.  
  
  
  
His gaze went down shamelessly to where the yukata below the obi split to reveal Inoo’s pale thighs, and he, with a heavy gulp—forced his eyes to look at everywhere but it. His self-control was silently slipping, but he wasn’t that low to take advantage of it, no matter how much he longed for those legs to wrap upon his waist. Thinking about this reminded him of how long it had been since he last got laid. He got his fair amount with both women and men, he wasn’t particular about gender, but looking down again at Inoo—he feared that he had a new kind of obsession now.  
  
  
  
There was a soft moan, and Takaki gulped again as he looked down at Inoo who stirred in his sleep, shifting to reveal more skin from his thighs, and now to his delight, Takaki successfully had got a full view of the whole length of both legs. Takaki’s grasp on self-control was now thinning, and that—coupled with the morning wood he sported; this still wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He pulled his hand free off Inoo when he decided that his thoughts were getting less innocent, then proceeded to thank the heavens that his hand was finally freed.  
  
  
  
“Mmmh.” Inoo stirred again, his eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes carefully, observing the surroundings with a groggy sigh. “Takaki?”  
  
  
  
Takaki eyed him warily, not wanting to look like a horny, sex-deprived man. His voice when he woke up was irresistible; it was smooth, raspy, and just pure sexiness. Takaki forced his lips to curl into a small smile.  
  
  
  
“Good morning,” He said, his hand almost went to ruffle the sleepy man’s hair but eventually refrained with an indescribably strength of effort that he didn’t know he possessed. Takaki’s aware that any physical touch would be highly prohibited, otherwise he would not be held responsible for whatever he’d do.  
  
  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
  
  
Inoo did nothing to cover up the revealing position he’s in, but Takaki supposed he’s still out of it due to his sluggishness. He yawned as his hand went up to cover his mouth instead, and Takaki tried to imagine his grandmother in a bikini to shoo his erection away. He almost sighed in relief when it resulted in immediate success, before Inoo sat up, his body propped on an elbow as his body face sideway, the yukata slipped off to reveal his shoulder, and in that precise moment—Takaki was sure he’d snap.  
  
  
  
“Inoo—”  
  
  
  
“I’m hungry.” Inoo interrupted, and with that statement—rose and went to fix his yukata. Takaki observed him from where he sat, and to his relief his abdomen and below was hidden by his blanket, otherwise it would be really awkward for the other to notice his proud morning glory, even if he could shrug his shoulder and say that it’s just due to a normal human male phenomenon.  
  
  
  
“Okay,” Was his response, and with a smile Inoo disappeared behind the sliding door.  
  
  
  
(Unbeknownst to Takaki, Inoo immediately ran to his room and almost hyperventilated, he did well on hiding his shock of waking up with Takaki on his room. He slid the fusuma close warily and leaned his body against it, face reddened in immense embarrassment. He covered his face with his hands, wanting to scream out loud, but it wasn’t because of frustration, but instead—happiness, and this very realization frustrated him anyway. It didn’t go unnoticed the way Takaki looked at him with so much lust that sent shivers deep on his veins. And that was possibly the moment when he realized of the tent upon his crotch area.)  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The following days remained uneventful, as Inoo fell back to a certain routine of waking up, eating, taking a walk in the garden, learning something from Yaotome (That man is truly multi-talented.). Inoo couldn’t hide the fact that he missed the world outside this mansion once in a while; he longed to take a random walk outside to enjoy the breeze in the street. But he was more than aware that it’d be rude of him (Is it?) to ask the oyabun to let him go outside.  
  
  
  
He and Takaki never talked since then. Both were either too embarrassed, or afraid of what would transpire between them. Takaki had since then changed—more serious and concentrated, juggling with his yakuza business, illegal or not. Inoo had learnt that yakuzas were also involved heavily on politics, and with Takaki-gumi being the most powerful syndicate in Japan (which automatically made them most powerful in the globe as well), they invested a lot on properties and international corporations. They were everywhere in Japan, technically speaking.  
  
  
  
To Inoo’s much delight—and originally, surprise—he was taken outside by the oyabun the following week, accompanied by a dozen of his underlings, to the nearest park from the mansion. There, oyabun told him a lot of his past doings, which Inoo was keenly interested in, he was mainly interested in how the oyabun was brought up as a yakuza. The oyabun told him about how he was bullied when he was still small, chuckling a little at the thought, and more often than not Inoo would laugh and smile at the funny things the oyabun had done, somewhat delighted that even the most powerful man also had weakness, and the fact that he was not any different than the rest of the world.  
  
  
  
“Yuya,” He said when he was talking about his time being a father and the kumicho at the same time. “He was a brat—not listening to anyone, doing whatever he likes, brings home men or women to his room often. He was more or less a delinquent. But there is still this gentleness that radiates from him, the way he plays the piano, or do calligraphy, he’s just acting tough.”  
  
  
  
When Inoo didn’t say anything, the oyabun continued. “His mother—my wife, died when he was young, and he was very close, much closer than I am even today, and it truly saddened me to had seen Takaki changed into nothing but a brat. Even so, first and foremost he was my son, and so I need to do something about it.”  
  
  
  
Inoo looked pained. “I’m sorry for—”  
  
  
  
“There’s no need—” There was a gentleness of the tone that silenced Inoo, so he stayed still.  
  
  
  
“Takaki’s a good man, he’s changed now.” The oyabun stared at the lake ahead, before turning to Inoo once more, a smile intact. “I’ve heard the ice cream’s quite popular in this area, would you care to accompany me?”  
  
  
  
Inoo nodded enthusiastically, soon they made their way to the ice cream stall that was surprisingly closer than Inoo had thought. They settled on the bench nearby the stall, allowing them to get a different view of the park. It was more of a greener view from where they were settled in. The oyabun shooed the members away—telling them to have fun once in a while—left Inoo chuckling in amusement. Inoo had never seen the oyabun this close to content, this—free. Inoo’s repressed chuckles temporarily transformed into one of a contented smile. Dared he say that even if the oyabun’s not biologically his father, Inoo had already felt this strong sense of attachment to this old man, the need to protect, to love this old man like a son would.  
  
Bang!  
  
It only took one damn bullet, and one assassin, to shatter his temporary pleasure of belongingness. And then everything fell apart as Inoo barely had the chance to even blink, to process and—!  
  
Gunshots rang.  
  
Several of the oyabun’s men swiftly, as they were trained, hid behind trees or other solid objects to shelter them from the set of bullets coming their way. They knew the drill, how to handle this, how to—murder, while—while, Inoo, wasn’t.  
  
But then he was good at surviving wasn’t he?  
  
Wasn’t he?  
  
Inoo wasn’t aware of him self shaking so badly until one of the yakuzas reached down and relieved some heavier object that had weighed on Inoo’s back this whole time. He shouted, almost sounded—panicked? But Inoo was out of it.  
  
By the time they were tugging on Inoo until Inoo fell forward and down to the earth, he felt it. Liquid. Thick, red, liquid upon his hands, arms.  
  
Was he shot?  
  
But it wasn’t his.  
  
It. Wasn’t. HIS.  
  
He turned back to look at the yakuza, then to the man who moments ago was just talking animatedly about his son to Inoo. The oyabun is dead, and he was staring at Inoo. With his lifeless eyes.  
  
The realisation hit harder than he thought it would. But no scream of terror could be produced at the time. Inoo was simply, there. Limp. Helpless. And guilty.  
  
  
  
He couldn’t even register two more loud sounds of gunshot resounding in the air.  
  
  
  
Several more of the oyabun’s men who were fortunately refusing to leave the oyabun’s side went to retrieve the old man and brought him frantically, while the yakuza from before eventually helped a grief-stricken Inoo up from the ground, assisted him in throwing the blood-coated ice cream from his frozen fingers, but Inoo couldn’t really feel, or think—for that matter. He was pushed to shelter behind a big tree and Inoo was crouching down, blocking out everything as he screw his eyes shut and clamped his ears.  
  
  
  
There were more gunshots, and Inoo turned and managed to shout at the ice cream man near him to take cover, which he did almost immediately—and with him now safely hidden behind another large tree away from him, he breathed out heavily. Inoo didn’t know who’s winning nor did he care, but he, for once in a lifetime—scared to lose his life.  
  
  
“Inoo-san,” There was a voice not a while after, and Inoo turned to look who he was.  
  
  
  
“Yabu….san…” Inoo breathed, feeling light-headed. Dark spots were clouding his vision.. “Takaki-dono, he…”  
  
  
  
“They took him to the hospital,” Yabu answered for him, his worry evident.  
  
  
  
Inoo shook his head frantically, voice shaking and panicking. “He’s dead, I saw his eyes staring at me, he’s dead, not gonna make it—”  
  
  
  
Yabu gritted his teeth as he forced himself not to tear up. “He’s fine, they’re taking him to the hospital.”  
  
  
  
When Inoo shook his head once more, Yabu took Inoo’s face with his hands as the latter was forced to look at him in the eyes. “Trust me.” He said in a perfectly controlled tone, and that was when Inoo’s dam broke.  
  
  
  
His eyes were soon wet, and the tears not doing anything but to stream gently upon his pale face. He was soon becoming a sobbing mess, crying to Yabu’s chest as the other held him gently, not knowing anything but to be there. Inoo was devastated, heart-broken. It happened so quickly, he should’ve had said no to the oyabun’s request in the first place. Why, why—  
  
  
  
“It’s okay”  
  
  
  
When Yabu held him tighter, he had no choice but to cling to him as tight.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
Wandering rather meaninglessly through the night, his earphones felt bulky on his ears, his feet weighing even more. His entire muscles seemingly entreated him to stop, just stop. Stop hurting. Put an end to this suffering. No more.  
  
It was a rather raw evening; sunshine has long since concealed itself beyond the horizon. Due to the advancing winter, the weather has grown to be slightly colder, however still a little milder than usual. Nonetheless, Inoo was yet slightly under dressed for the current weather, his long sleeve button-up shirt, made with thin cheap fabric, caused Inoo to be highly sensitive to each breeze and feel it down to his bones. He was smart enough not to let this be an activity on a daily basis, so maybe he got his brain to thank for that.  
  
Three months ago he had relocated to the city, using the financial resources from Yabu to rent a small studio apartment, just big enough so that he could sleep and take leaks, thus the absence of a futon was not all that discomfiting. Yabu frequently came by to check up on Inoo, much to Inoo’s dismay and humiliation. The treacherous side of his mind told Inoo that Yabu probably felt bad for him wouldn’t want him to do anything stupid and felt some kind of obligation towards him, especially after the accident. But Yabu also served as a painful reminder every time he came.  
  
The very reminder of his cruel abandonment (of Takaki-sama, he cringed, guilt oppressed his facial expression), even if Yabu wasn’t particularly the bad guy here. However despite the bitterness of the past - knowing how it felt to be lonely for so long, Inoo clearly didn’t mind the company. Especially since all Yabu did was being nice to him. Inoo wasn’t stupid, nor was he naive, living in the street for years had taught him that. He couldn’t lean on Yabu all the freaking time. So almost half of the cash he spent for education, one of his life-long dream, which worked also as a huge investment for the future. He had several part-time jobs to keep him grounded and busy, also to help with the rent every now and then. After all, Inoo had to pay taxes now, great.  
  
All in all, he’d been pretty busy, but he intended to be.

* * *

  
The waitress came with a bottle of South Australian Merlot, pouring a bit into his wine glass, waiting patiently at him as he swirled the glass slightly with ease, taking his time. He brought the glass to his nose, close enough to smell the slight muskiness of the freshly opened wine. He hummed, and took a small sip. The waitress watched with a flirtatious smile, holding out the bottle with the label up, looking professional, although her facial expression showed nothing but lasciviousness.  
  
Without any word uttered, he nodded to the waitress and watched her pour the red wine to his companion’s glass, before returning to Takaki’s, while pouring the liquid at a more leisurely pace than the other. Takaki smiled at her, before deciding that she took too long for this. He would not waste his time for something so trivial.  
  
He finally turned to the other, as his friend quirked a smile. “So you’re planning to build a dojo?”  
  
“Uh, yeah”, Yaotome scratched his head, almost sheepishly. He then twisted his arm and groaned, feeling it sore and slightly aching after the hot session of their hand-to-hand spar. It had lasted for a solid hour, sans water-drinking break, or even just short intervals to take some breather. The dark suit he was wearing felt a little tighter than usual, and he silently prayed that it’s his growing biceps that are the cause. “Takaki-sama, if it’s okay with you, of course. It’s something I’ve been—”  
  
“Takaki’s fine.” Takaki sighed, clearly irritated at the third person still overhearing in the table. And Yaotome looked through his peripheral vision that the waitress finally finished whatever she was doing, possibly gave up after his friend’s lack of interest. Good riddance.  
  
Same old, same old. Yaotome felt as if he knew Takaki a little bit more now. The slight change of expression was barely there, but then Yaotome was no recent acquaintance of his. So he grinned, even though the sheepishness was still in tact. Old habits die hard. “Oh, right. Taka-chan then.” He managed to have thrown in a couple of laughs to ease the awkwardness, while Takaki decided to ignore the last bit.  
  
“So, a dojo, huh?”  
  
“Yeah!” That damn grin was brighter than usual, and Takaki knew this was something that was planned out from long ago. And most definitely something Yaotome genuinely desired. “I figured, why not? I need a break time from all of this, as I am sure you do too. Even though you’re still being strict to your own self, as usual.” Yaotome took a sip on his red wine.  
  
Takaki managed to nod. There was no more explanation needed after all. Yaotome was his most trustworthy gun-slash-swords man, and with years and with years gone by together with the other man, he felt almost like an obligation to grant his happiness, after all the shit he had put up with Takaki’s antiques. It was merely a dojo anyway, nothing special. Considering how anyone would never, in their wildest dreams, think that Yaotome’s a part of the yakuza, he was indeed not very fitting in the industry. “It’s my business what I do. And thus your business is yours, why should you ask me for approval?” He asked, cutting his own thoughts short.  
  
Yaotome’s eyes widened, filled with hopeful joy and appeared almost flabbergasted. His body leaned forward, eyebrows raised and Takaki was surprised Yaotome had previously thought this proposal would be a no-go from him. “You mean—?”  
  
Takaki sighed, lifted a red wine glass to the air. “To the new dojo.” A barely-there genuine smile was upon his lips, something that was lost to him the moment he lost his father, but it was there, and Yaotome was there to take it all in. And it was something he managed to store in one of his memorable moments.  
  
Yaotome gave a hearty laughter, eyes forming two crescent moons as he lifted his own glass and both of their glasses clanked slightly as they made contact.  
  
“To a new life!” Yaotome’s excitement was contagious, and Takaki, for once, felt something akin to relief.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Where have you been?”  
  
Inoo Kei was in the process of taking his shoes off in the genkan, and ultimately found Yabu’s concerned expression upon him, for him?  
  
  
Yabu had clearly changed his attire to an almost casual look. Inoo would gawk at him as he looked pretty attractive, unfortunately this was not his first night at his place and Inoo felt an almost imperceptible sigh creeping from his mouth at how much of a routine this had become. A routine that Inoo was not inclined to get used to. Inoo’s eyes traveled back down to what he was doing, thoroughly ignored the other and took his time taking off his shoes, then with both clutched in his point and middle finger, he then proceeded to organise them neatly alongside Yabu’s.  
  
“Out.” Was all Inoo managed, and he coped without his voice shaking or stuttering. Since he’d been cold, he chose not to take off his socks for the extra warmth provided for his feet. Lacking a functional heater in his small studio apartment, every now and then he tended to need extra fabric wrapped around his body, and considering how biting cold it was . Inoo took a seat in the floor. “How have you been?”  
  
“Tired.” Yabu sighed, plopped back down to the floor, as if the chairless-ness situation didn’t bother him at the slightest. “Yuya’s been making everyone crazy.”  
  
I didn’t want to know that, Inoo thought. “Ah, I see.”  
  
“Hikaru’s been busy as well, I think he’s gonna retire from the group and make his own dojo. Thankfully Yuya allowed him to go, otherwise he’s dead.”  
  
Inoo raised a brow, obviously yakuzas are not that cruel. Or are they? “Why’s that?”  
  
“You can’t just quit a yakuza group, whatever the reason, it’s considered betrayal. The tattoos are there to distinguish you from other groups, it displays that you are in a group, and we are prideful beings, we take honor in being in that particular group. So basically the thought of even leaving is taboo.”  
  
“Oh.” Inoo looked down at his lap, didn’t seem all that interested in the conversation. He stood up and stared at the counter of his small kitchen in the corner left. “You want something to drink?” he asked instead.  
  
Yabu blinked in surprise at the sudden change of topic, he nodded before leaning back—legs slightly spread while both of his palms supported his weight across his back in a lazy manner. “Yeah, sure. Ocha?”  
  
Inoo opened up his cabinet and rummaged through, only to find messy, unorganised products. Inoo hadn’t been able to spend much time in his own place, most of the time out and about or school or work. However he found one tea bag left and took it. Yabu watched him move in an unreadable expression, before sighing and stood.  
  
Inoo was so distracted watching the gentle water from the faucet coursing down inside the kettle and jumped slightly when he felt Yabu towering behind him, casting a shadow in the counter beside the sink. Feeling himself blush slightly, he went back from the shadow to watching the now uninteresting water streaming down.  
  
Yabu finally asked, “You need help?”  
  
“Mm, I’m fine.” Inoo replied absently, turning the faucet off. _I wonder if this is too much water?_ The kettle was then set down on the stove, before the younger man lit it up with a gas lighter. Inoo turned and leaned against the counter while waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. The taller of the two was preparing the cups when Inoo asked him.  
  
“So, how is he?”  
  
“He?” Yabu didn’t look up as he took a teapot from the cabinet.  
  
“Takaki-sama” The name didn’t sit right on Inoo’s tongue, much less the honorific suffix.  
  
“He’s doing fine, I think he has a few projects coming up soon.”  
  
Inoo hummed in reply, not bothering for some speech. His gaze went to the kettle sitting on the stove. Somehow, as much as Inoo wanted to be happy for Takaki when he’s better, he couldn’t.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
His Armani Collezioni leather jacket clung tightly to his body as he sauntered over to his seat in the restaurant. This is the second night he’s gone to this particular restaurant, the last one being with Yaotome, and now, he sighed, Chinen. He sat down, glanced to his Rolex, finding that he was 2 minutes early.  
  
“What would you like to have, Sir?”  
  
Takaki glanced up and found a waitress smiling down sweetly at him. Oh, good. She’s not the last one. She held out the menu for him to take and was rejected when Takaki merely gave a polite smile back to the waitress, “Just give me a glass of Pinot Noir and a mineral water.”  
  
“Certainly.” There was politeness and professionalism in her voice that he appreciated and Takaki figured he would leave more tip later on.  
  
As she walked off, Takaki took his phone to check on his email, checking if the man he’s waiting for got caught in a traffic jam or an accident. Although—Takaki sighed—knowing him, he’s just probably fashionably late. After a while, his drink came and Takaki went to swirl the drink slightly on his hand, then took small sips from the drink. He wanted his mind to still be clear during the conversation, he’d proved to make rather ludicrous decisions when not sober.  
  
The man he had been waiting for came, gaining stares from nearby occupants. The man was indeed attractive, although rather short. Takaki cleared his throat when the man was clearly busy absorbing all of the attention given to him. That narcissistic fuck. The man finally seemed to regain his composure with Takaki’s attempt, and finally arrived at Takaki’s table, giving him a sheepish grin and sat.  
  
“Sorry to have kept you waiting!”  
  
“I’m used to it.”  
  
“You’re starting your drinks without me, how cruel.”  
  
“You must know me by now.”  
  
Chinen’s eyes twinkled as he smiled sweetly, hiding menace and savagery that Takaki was all too familiar with.  
  
“Hey, beautiful!” Chinen suddenly called out of the blue, the waitress (a different one) – clearly had been waiting - delighted expression was as clear as day, being called ‘beautiful’ by an amazingly attractive (and rather adorable), rich-looking young man was one of the rare moments she would experience. “Can I get a glass of whatever he’s having, please?”  
  
“Absolutely!” The waitress exclaimed in a jovial manner and sauntered off.  
  
“So...” Chinen’s facial expression slightly changed to a more serious kind when turned back to Takaki, he linked his hands together and placed them on the table. “What’s the occasion?”  
  
“I’m having an upcoming project and I need your help.”  
  
“Hmm? A help, you say?” Chinen leaned back to a more relaxed posture, he had probably thought Takaki was in some kind of deep predicament. Although knowing how he was during the past three months, it wouldn’t all be shocking.  
  
“I’m planning to build a new chain hotel, based in Okinawa, Tokyo is definitely out of the market, that place would be a nightmare to compete in. What I’m planning to do is to merge boutique-themed hotels with high-end luxury. The scale would be small-to-medium, 20 to 70, depending on the location. This is one of those projects I’d be paying close attention to, each and every detail would be explained to me. Everything you need to know is over here,” Takaki referred to a rather thick folder and pushed it towards the other man.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Your wine, Sir.”  
  
Chinen gave the waitress a wink as thanks before turning back to Takaki, whose face was annoyed more than anything by his flirty nature (Such a waste of time). The waitress blushed and went back to the back area.  
  
“So what do you need? An architect?”  
  
Takaki nodded. “The hotel needs modernness, something fresh, something no one had thought of. I need someone young. But a good one.”  
  
“Ah...” Chinen smiled confidently, his finger tracing the brown folder, amusement danced upon his eyes. “For this kind of project? I think I have a good idea.”

  


* * *

  
  
Inoo couldn’t sleep.  
  
It marked the 100th day since he last had an adequate slumber. Yes. He counted. His eyes felt weighty as he looked fixedly at himself in a mirror in the bathroom. The reflecting surface seemed all but mock him, his existence, another garbage that this world didn’t really need. Yabu’s not coming that night, so he felt lonelier, and with no one there, there’d be no distractions to keep his mind out of his self-made destructing thoughts. No one to tell him he’s not a murderer. He’s alone then.  
  
He clenched his eyes shut, not having the abilities to stand his own reflection as he turned off the light of his bathroom and went to the living room, intended to have a short lie-down. He let out a sigh as he shuffled to get a good position, his eyes traveled to the ceiling and his breath came a little more relaxed. His hand stretched to reach his bagpack and without moving his body, he let his hand to grab his music player.  
  
Listening to music had never been so relaxing at the time. It felt tranquilising and he felt almost at ease. Inoo closed his eyes, his music player on his chest clutched in one hand, another rested slightly below the chest. And in no time, he finally fell into a light dreamless slumber.  
  
At least, that was what he’d hoped.  
  
And as the world crumbled in his sleep, not very much to his surprise, he woke up with sweat cascading down his forehead and neck. His eyes focused once more at the familiar colorless ceiling. There were gunshots in his dream, and what else was there?  
  
He always came back to that same place, same accident, same people, and same self-condemnation.  
  
I didn’t kill him. He let out a deep exhale as he said this in his mind, as if silencing the other part of him that blamed Inoo for whatever happened three months ago. His hand still in a grasped position on the music player, shaking slightly from his, fear? Guilt? Anger?  
  
The lyrics of his favourite song droned on in the background as he kept his breathing in check. He would not want to have any more breakdowns, nope, not anymore.  
  
And there goes one more attempt to sleep, failed by his ghost from the past.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.  
  
Only, it wasn’t like one of those days when raining made you think of hot chocolate, a nap in bed (although Inoo didn’t have one), wrapped up in blankets and excessive Norah Jones while watching the gloomy sky reveals itself. No.  
  
It was pelting down, raining cats and dogs, all of its equivalents, and it’s getting on Inoo’s nerves. He glanced at his plastic watch and cursed at himself for skipping the weather forecast in the morning before he departed. He was currently using the roof of some convenience store near his school, and with people swarming in the very same spot as him (and how his body was insanely frail and small), Inoo was unfortunate enough to be shoved into the area where water droplets dribbled from the edge of the roof right onto his head, and utilising the free newspaper he got from the train station to shelter his head from the droplets of rain didn’t really do much, in fact, he believed the newspaper was already falling apart.  
  
Inoo exhaled. “Why does everything never go right—”  
  
“Yo!”  
  
Inoo flinched at the loud voice, before finding the source of boisterous voice right beside him (and found an umbrella above his head). “Arioka-san.”  
  
Arioka Daiki, his classmate, one of those that always had inclination towards knowing each and every student at school - was a chirpy fellow. Inoo wondered in regards to his actual charismatic skills, since all he did was being loud and cheery, well, of course he obviously had some under his sleeves, considering how popular he was in the class. And he’s one of the few nice guys, while the rest just seemed to belittle Inoo (being aware of the fact that Inoo was just a poor and feminine-looking man).  
  
“Seems like you could use an umbrella, but since I only got one, do you mind sharing?”  
  
Inoo blinked as Arioka referred to the wrecked newspaper on his head, what’s left of it barely shielding his now very drenched hair. “Um—not at all. But, it’s ok really—”  
  
“Oh come on, let’s go before we’re late for class!”  
  
Before he got anything out from the other man, Arioka got Inoo by the elbow while the latter was literally dragged through the crowded streets full of similar transparent umbrella, similar one that was now above Inoo’s head. Inoo felt extremely grateful but the fast—energetic pace that Arioka had soon caused him to stumble a few times, resulting in the puddle of water to splatter across him or others. He apologised every now and then to the several pair of glaring eyes as they crashed through the wave of swarming white-collars and undergraduates.  
  
Thanking and slightly bowing to a laughing (Inoo, you’re too slow!) Arioka, Inoo all but rather quickly dried his hair and shoulder using his handkerchief. The lobby of the school was covered with muddy shoeprints, he noticed, it would be tough to clean all these.  
  
He was in the process of getting through the horde of wet university students (the building wasn’t that big, really), before Inoo felt that familiar butterfly churning his stomach. Only this time it was one of apprehensiveness.  
  
Just like a sickening slow-motion cinematic movie Inoo was definitely not in, a familiar face came into view across the corridor, seemingly very much alive and breathtakingly handsome, his eyes showing life that Inoo had forgotten, even from the other side of the hall way. To his relief the other man was not particularly aware of Inoo’s presence in the same room as he was talking business probably, with his principal. Inoo couldn’t believe it, they were literally inhaling the same air, standing 20 steps away from each other.  
  
Inoo felt his own breath caught in his throat, memories escaping like a floodgate. The sight of Takaki could be bad; he didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown here, out of all places!  
  
He remembered to keep his breathing in check. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Just breathe like a normal person, Inoo. He didn’t need to know you’re here. You can do this. You always did.  
  
Inoo was freed from his dark thoughts of his past when Arioka (bless him) slung an arm around his neck in a friendly manner, staring at Inoo’s line of view. “Whatchu’ looking at? You ok?”  
  
“Nothing.” Inoo shakingly grabbed the familiar arm and took some distance away from Arioka. “Shall we go?”  
  


* * *

  
  
Numb.  
  
There was deep breathing, restless eyes, and more deep breathing. His futon blanket felt uncomfortable draped over his body, it felt heavier than usual, as if attempting to bind him down to the earth. He gazed up to look at his Japanese ceiling lights, a reminder about how much he missed his own room at his mansion back home.  
  
Home.  
  
After the death of his parent, the mansion began to be made use exclusively for his subordinates. They were free to do whatever with it, and with the size of the mansion, needless to say everybody was ecstatic while Yabu’s assistant eagerly began making plans in what to do for all the rooms. Takaki often stayed in one of the rooms for work and meetings, but other than that, he had his own penthouse near the area. The thought of living there is no longer an option, as it held too much-  
  
Memories.  
  
Takaki sighed, rolling over to the side.  
  
He knew about Inoo fleeing, and he also knew that somehow, in some way, Yabu had been involved. However, he didn’t know whether Yabu egged Inoo to leave, or merely letting him leave by his own accord. Either way, Yabu had something to do with the sudden leave of Inoo Kei.  
  
After the accident, Takaki had been doing an unhealthy amount of thinking, and had come into terms with his feelings and yes; he’s at the very least—attracted to Inoo. He’s come to like him, even. The bright personality and how absolutely adorable he could be, how the most beautiful smile can emanate from those cute pouty lips or how such abundance of compassion can be emitted through Inoo’s actions. Takaki wanted to show Inoo how beautiful he was.  
  
But more than that, Takaki wanted all of Inoo.  
  
And he knew it was selfish, and too sudden.  
  
He had only known Inoo for months, very few interactions between each other, and yet—he couldn’t get him out, even when his father was murdered in cold blood, buried in the ground, he mourned, yes, but over all, he mourned for Inoo.  
  
With the passing of his father, it felt like opportunities have opened for him. He had grown accustomed to his father dictating each and every action for Takaki, how he must behave, how he must treat others, and how to do his jobs. Now that there is no one to prescribe what he should do, he felt—  
  
Free.  
  
Unsurprisingly, coping up with his father’s death had been straightforward and easy. His father had been so wrapped up around his own organisation that he barely had time for Takaki, and Takaki’s okay with that, in fact—he respected his father for being able to dedicate his life entirely to the organisation. Everything he did was for the organisation and Takaki understood that now.  
  
He had made up his mind to devote himself entirely to his businesses too. And boy did his father leave a lot of unfinished projects and businesses behind. Takaki was already taken as an apprentice of his father’s, but some projects he wasn’t allowed to touch at all. And for everything to be entrusted to him all of a sudden might seem a little unfair, but Takaki was always up for the challenge.  
  
There’s only one thing he’s left to do.  
  
Wait, scratch that. Two things.  
  
Takaki cracked his knuckles, his eyes seemingly glinting under the dimmed ceiling lights.  
  
  


* * *

  
Takaki was bored.  
  
His posture was straight; his suit slightly tainted with blood, but who the hell cared. His hair was slightly tousled, but again—it was the last thing he had in mind. The person in front of him had it far worse, on his knees, head lolling back with blood steadily flowing down from the edge of his lips, he wouldn’t have been able to be on his knees if not for Yabu’s hand holding tightly both of the man’s hands behind him, while another hand of Yabu’s tightly grasping his hazel-coloured hair.  
  
“I—I’m sor—Taka—”  
  
“You see, Morimoto-kun”, Takaki began disinterestedly, looking at his half-burned cigarette, then flick it off and let the ash fell to the ground. “My father always taught me that double-dealing is the worst thing that could ever happen to you.”  
  
Takaki smiled at the memory, but underlying the smile on his face was something of brutality and barbaric. “And from what I can remember, we have always been partners, haven’t we?”  
  
Morimoto said nothing, his bloodshot eyes following Takaki’s every movement, he no longer had any strength in him. But who cared.  
  
“And—” Takaki brought his cigarette down to meet Morimoto’s cheek, who hissed loudly at the impact of the burning cigarette upon his own flesh. “I guess killing my father wasn’t your best move, huh?”  
  
“Shall I take him to the back room?” Yabu asked, face exhibiting amusement on the misery of the other.  
  
“Oh, no.” Takaki chuckled. “There are lots of surprises coming your way, Morimoto-kun.”  
  
“What—”  
  
Takaki leaned in and almost whispered to Morimoto’s ears. “Let’s do this the Takaki-gumi way, shall we?”  
  
When Inoo dreamed about the past, it was vivid and almost unreal.  
  
They are more like scenes in a movie, whereas Inoo stood in a third-person perspective looking in, watching his recklessness and behaviour that he knew was just downright stupid. But overall he saw how miserable, and utterly pathetic, he had become. He didn’t know what expression he was showing at the time, didn’t know whether he wanted it to stop or continue. They didn’t care—and just continued anyway, guiding Inoo step by step to where he was now.  
  
There was a door by the end of the hall, and Inoo moved through the hallway, his boots (some really heavy ones) reverberated as they thumped heavier than usual, as if he had some herculean-size feet, upon the supposedly carpeted floor. His hand stretched to reach for the doorknob, but even before he got to, the entrance flew open outwards.  
  
He saw Takaki, sitting behind his executive wooden desk, in his hand sat a pen, as he scribbled on a paperwork. Takaki looked good as usual, wearing a dark blue suit and immaculately gelled hazel hair. Inoo walked towards him, and he stood in front of the desk. Takaki—as if sensing his presence, halted his movement, his pen hovering above the white paper. His gaze traveled to meet Inoo’s eyes, and he gave a small smile.  
  
Inoo, not knowing what to do, opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but his mouth didn’t move.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”  
  
Inoo shook his head.  
  
When Yabu said nothing, Inoo offered some peace of mind. “But it’s not like it’s uncommon, I’ve just been busy with school assignments. So most of the time I’m holed up doing projects or—group assignments, and all that.” Inoo adjusted his jacket and zipped it up, then turned to the other and smiled lightly at his platonic friend. “But I’m fine, see?”  
  
Yabu hummed. “If we were lovers, I would make you go to sleep even if I force you myself.”  
  
“Then too bad—and I’m glad—we’re not,” Inoo grinned. “Now c’mon.” Inoo slapped Yabu’s arm gently as he passed by to get to his shoes faster, the genkan was too small to fit two persons, so every now and then they tended to race each other there. Most of the time it ended with Inoo’s victory. “I’m starving. You said you’re buying me dinner.”  
  
Yabu ruffled his own hair, amusement dancing on his eyes as he made way to where his unorganised shoes were. Inoo grinned and opened the door, making an ushering motion outside. “Ladies first.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Tokyo Architect School?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yaotome replied, casually shoving his hands inside the pocket of his jeans. “If you’re wondering where it’s located, it’s only four blocks from there. Well, you must go through narrower streets to get there so if anyone asks, just tell them that. The place has already been paid, so all that’s left are really the equipment and some human resources to handle the administration and stuff like that. I won’t do extensive advertisements just to get members, I don’t do that stuff, but you can introduce some of your” Yaotome made a air-quoting motion, “connection. Won’t you?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Takaki attempted to sound indifferent and hid his pride of his friend-now-partner, casually focused on pushing through the throng. Ikebukuro was unusually crowded today, and he wondered what Yaotome had persuaded having—as Yaotome casually called it—‘quality time’ with each other. “I suppose I’m happy for you.”  
  
“Of course you should be, man!” Yaotome slapped Takaki’s shoulder in a casual manner. “It’s gonna be great! You’re gonna come by every once in a while to teach my students how to do basic self-defence, because who are we kidding, I’m the best.”  
  
Takaki rose his eyebrows. “That’s highly arrogant of you to say that.”  
  
Yaotome grew sheepish. “Okay, maybe intermediate.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Slightly advanced.”  
  
“Whatever.” Takaki stopped by in front of his favourite ramen shop and looked at him thoughtfully. “Lunch?”  
  
Yaotome glanced at the ramen shop, his mouth already watering. “Oh my God, you’re the best.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Inoo’s boss was particularly bitchy that night, so he had to make up his mistakes (he had dropped an expensive wine, apparently) by exerting himself overtime. When his shift eventually ended, Inoo immediately grabbed his bag pack and ran out the door, not wanting to be anywhere near his boss at the time. She could make him work until morning if she wanted to, considering how Inoo couldn’t refuse her even he wanted to. He needed this job desperately, it was one of the highest paying jobs he ever had.  
  
After he knew he was far enough from his workplace, the frantic pace turned more leisurely, and he took his time strolling along the sidewalk. The streetlights always bugged him at night, because it was always dim around this area. While he was aware that this was not particularly a friendly neighborhood, but it’s still nevertheless Tokyo, the government should at least fix the damned lights and make it less red-light district-y.  
  
It was also starting to pour, which had been happening quite frequently lately. Inoo pulled up his hoodie to cover the rest of his head (he’s been great at forecasting the weather as of late), intentionally gazing down at the rainwater covering the sidewalk to avoid getting drizzled on his face.  
  
Inoo decided to settle on the longer path to get home and quite unfortunately, got stuck in a place full of swarming individuals. Realising his mistake of getting into the east of Ikebukuro, or so called—the seedy part, he dodged through waves of people and luckily enough found himself in a quieter area of the place. Being aware that his hoodie is pretty much drenched, he went to shelter himself under a roof of some convenience store.  
  
Inoo was too busy to notice anything changing the song of his music player, even when a unfamiliar umbrella from a familiar individual hovered above his head. The sudden dark shadow cast upon Inoo made him glance up at the giant. Turned out, it was not. His breath caught in his throat when he realised that the man who had infiltrated his dreams so many times was here in front of him. And very much real.  
  
Takaki only smiled. “I vividly remember the time I did this to you half a year ago.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“How are you?”  
  
Inoo squirmed in his seat, not knowing how to answer, how to begin. He looked up to meet Takaki’s gentle pair of eyes. The latter ran his fingers through his light brown locks as Inoo fiddled his thumbs like a schoolgirl.  
  
He knew it wasn’t quite the right time to talk to Takaki like this, at a place where ten people around them could be eavesdropping. But all he could wonder was what was Takaki thinking about? And was he angry? Sad? Maybe both? Inoo was mindful of the fact that he had perhaps betrayed the whole organisation by fleeing right after the big boss died, and how both suspicious and cowardly his action was.  
  
Could not afford to be still, Inoo finally looked up to examine the man before him, studied the new small wrinkles at the edge of his eyes were more prominent than before. They did compliment the other facial attributes that made Takaki handsome, well, more than usual. “I’ve been—I’m surviving.” Inoo said eventually.  
  
“That’s good.” Takaki sighed, not knowing what to say as well. This was getting even uncomfortable for the both of them.  
  
Despite the awkward tension, Inoo was pleased to see that Takaki’d been doing great. Well—better than him anyway. He wouldn’t forgive himself if by him leaving it would leave a great impact on Takaki or his mafia—yakuza group, or organisation, whatever. But—as much as Inoo could see, Takaki seemed genuinely fine and healthy.  
  
“How have you been, Takaki-sama?”  
  
“You should stop calling me that, Inoo-san. I thought I told you to call me Takaki.”  
  
“Oh, um..sorry.”  
  
Takaki waved his hand in dismissal. “How have you been dealing with—everything?”  
  
Inoo blinked in bemusement as his vision blurred for a moment at being thrown back into the depths of suppressed past memories, but he climbed his way back to the present and nodded at the question, a distant look upon his face. “It’s okay. I’ve been in the city for three months already, and at first it was a little hard for me to adjust to the—life, of a normal person, but—”  
  
“How did you get money to rent a place?”  
  
“I’ve been—working...” He trailed off.  
  
Takaki sent him a curious glance. His face was filled with disguised suspiciousness. “And three months ago you ran away from the mansion. So who paid for all your financial needs at the time? You have lived here for three months, living like a normal person, yes?”  
  
When Inoo was not keen on replying, as he attempted to keep the sarcastic reply that desperately wanted nothing but to fly straight out of his mouth, Takaki continued, clearly bitter. “Is it Kota? It’s him, isn’t it?”  
  
Inoo inclined his head and bit his lips, almost in a defeating manner. Having no idea whether to continue or not, Inoo’s lips shook slightly, wanting to tell the truth but too afraid of the possible consequences. He didn’t want to upset neither of the party. Yabu and Takaki were both important figures to him.  
  
The younger man could sense Takaki’s unwavering gaze, and he dared his eyes to travel up to meet the latter. His pair of orbs seemed disappointed, confused, angry, sad, and Inoo felt stabbing guilt overwhelming him. Perhaps concurring for a short ‘catching up’ in the first place wasn’t the best idea after all.  
  
“I knew it. That’s why he kept on disappearing at night.” Takaki almost muttered to himself, as if pieces of puzzles were finally assembling together.  
  
At this point it was too much. Too much for Inoo to handle, he needed to flee. It’s flee or fight, and he did not have neither desire or capabilities to fight the much witty, strong, bulky, taller and older man. Making up his mind, he did not care in the slightest whether he was making a scene. “I—need to go.” Inoo whispered.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Having enough of the conversation, Inoo’s shaking legs finally steadied themselves as he let himself rose from the chair. “Go—I should go.”  
  
Not looking at the pair of confused eyes, he grabbed his bag and almost knocked over the table of nearby occupants, after a profuse apology being uttered, he moved as fast as his legs could take him and bolted outside the coffee shop. Needing to take a short stroll, he wandered around sauntering to the nearby park and sat down on the swings.  
  
Eventually, after a few hours, deciding he had enough of fresh air, he arrived home, only to be greeted by the man he just ran away from. Great, just his luck.  
  
“You forgot your phone.” Takaki said almost apathetically, his arm stretched to show him the small device.  
  
Inoo immediately went for his pocket, noticing that it was indeed his missing phone. He sighed, taking the flip phone from Takaki, before a frown settled deep upon his facial muscles, his mouth were ready to open and ask how the hell did he figure out Inoo’s home address, it’s not like he had his own address typed and displayed at wallpaper, besides, it had pins. “How did you—” Inoo snapped his mouth shut and let out a defeating sigh, sliding his phone back to his pocket. “Never mind, thank you.”  
  
Takaki moved from the door to make way for Inoo to fumble for his keys and eventually opened his apartment door. He didn’t know what to do, should he invite Takaki in? But it might be—dangerous.  
  
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Takaki asked, as if reading his mind.  
  
Inoo pursed his lips, his hands steadily settled upon the door, either to close or widen it, he didn’t know.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Well, wasn’t that the best decision he had made.  
  
Takaki was organising his shoes by the genkan while Inoo didn’t even bother putting his away neatly, he needed some aspirin to shoo away his growing headache. He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets only to find none. Cursing lightly, he then took a glass and filled it with water from the faucet.  
  
“It’s quite a cozy place.” Takaki started while Inoo forced a smile.  
  
“Thanks.” It didn’t sound much like a genuine reply from Inoo, but he meant it. “This was with the most reasonable price that I could get. With no education whatsoever, it’s hard to land a job that has good pay”  
  
It was true; Inoo searched and searched for a job, be it part time or full time, which had a reasonable salary for him to pay rent. And while most of the apartments in the listing were of moderate cost, it had excluded the utilities that were definitely something that needed to take into consideration of. Fortunately for him Yabu had assisted in getting him this accommodation through his friend of a friend, and Inoo was incredibly grateful.  
  
Feeling more confident, Takaki offered to share some of his story. “I gave away the mansion to my subordinates. We had juniors coming in two months ago, and since I haven’t lived there since—” Takaki cleared his throat, and decided to not mention the accident. He had made himself settled in an area near the entrance. “—I figured I could add in some extra rooms for them to stay in. And possibly make it our HQ.”  
  
“It wasn’t before?”  
  
“Before, it was in Tokyo. Easier access, closer networks and cost-cutting products from suppliers, as almost all of them were based there. But after the entire hurricane that’s been happening, I reckon we all need a little peace in our life. Somewhere quiet and serene.”  
  
Inoo merely nodded.  
  
“I also was thinking of, uh...stepping down—” Takaki said thoughtfully, as though rethinking his decision. “—and become an investor, I had some projects coming up soon. Because God knows I need something healthier than murdering bad people. I’d probably hand it over to Yabu, he’d know what to do with the organisation. He is more aligned with what my father envisioned the group will be rather than I am.”  
  
Inoo was frankly surprised by how open Takaki was with him about stuff like this. As a yakuza leader, it wasn’t supposed to be his job to spew his plans or intentions to strangers, and while Inoo could hardly be counted as a stranger, he was someone Takaki didn’t know much about, and easily this piece of information could be turned against him in a heartbeat.  
  
“Can I ask you a question?” Takaki eventually asked.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are you involved with Yabu?”  
  
Inoo raised an eyebrow.  
  
“As in, romantically? You know, like lovers?”  
  
Inoo shook his head. “I regard him as a brother. I don’t know. I mean—I’m not in love with him or anything.” I only want you.  
  
After the set of words flew from his mouth, Inoo was reminded that this was Takaki asking him, asking him if he was romantically involved with Yabu. Which means, he was interested in Inoo, right?  
  
Inoo, not knowing what else to say, and assuming Takaki’s not willing to comment on that statement, offered. “Tea?” He asked stupidly.  
  
Takaki shrugged his shoulder, his face unreadable. “Sure.”  
  
Takaki was seated on the wooden floor, taking in Inoo’s small living space, while Inoo was sulking in the kitchen area waiting with great forbearance for the kettle to just finish boiling already. His hand still trembled at how the situation had changed drastically.  
  
The man he had cowardly run away from, just waltzed in back to his life as easy as falling off a log. He could not believe it. All these—these, ghosts from the past plaguing his nights, biting loneliness he felt whenever Yabu’s not there. Why was he so weak? He couldn’t let himself be independent for once. Always seeking support, he had become such a pathetic figure to his own self.  
  
How many nights had it been since he had a decent sleep? Decent food? How many nights since he had longed for this man’s company, to meet him again, and to talk and laugh with him, catching up on what’s new with the organisation. Like old friends did. Only—  
  
They weren’t.  
  
(Everything went by as if Inoo were free falling through the sombre blackened upper regions. Avoiding any media possible was effortless enough, however the memory plagued into his brain like a tenacious parasite. He found himself encircled in a film of ominous past, trapped in an endless cycle, forever reliving that moment, and all the time wondering why it stuck to his mind with great persistence, since he had seen worse when he lived in the streets, from assault to murder, he had seen it all. But the blank face of the oyabun which was lifeless, staring right through him.  
  
Those eyes, ‘it’s all your fault’, they said.  
  
Inoo scrunched his eyes as to blur up the images, as if it could prevent him to further conjure more memories from his head, but of course, to no avail. Nothing worked anymore after all.  
  
Inoo didn’t realise he was once more, crying, as he stared at his dinner. The chopsticks let out a loud clank as it fell from Inoo’s grip, one to the plate, and the other to the wooden floor. Realising he couldn’t resume eating (for the fifth time this week, and it’s only Wednesday), he stood up gingerly, before proceeding to lie down in his new small studio apartment which he had recently moved into, plopping onto the futon and fell into a slumber full of welcoming night terr—  
  
  
A hand grasped his shoulder as he snapped back into the present, and only then he felt himself trembling badly. His hands, he noticed, weren’t even able to hold the kettle properly.  
  
“Breathe, Inoo. Breathe.” Two giant hands were rested upon his cheek, and Inoo tried to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, and so he struggled, and choked.  
  
“Inoo, listen to my voice. You’re fine, nothing’s happening. I’m here, you’re safe.” Takaki looked like an angel like this, eyes so warm and gentle, his thumb felt even better on his cheek, wiping his away his—tears?  
  
Inoo started hyperventilating, because obviously this was a dream, it was meant to. He was going to wake from his deep slumber, only to find out that he’s on his own again, him against the world. Lonely and cold.  
  
“You’re safe, you’re here with me. Come back.” His voice felt too real, and Inoo wondered if his dreams would become like this now, more realistic, to instil more fake hope in him. Certainly he wouldn’t mind.  
  
“I’m—a, a mess.” After a while, Inoo admitted, and it felt more like a confession than anything. While he was dreaming, might as well share to his heart’s content. Takaki was silent, offering his ears for Inoo, so kind-hearted. Inoo felt like a little shit for doing all those things to Takaki, who had been nothing but nice.  
  
“I feel awful for abandoning you, deserting you, especially for such a time. You must’ve felt so—” He hiccupped, now his voice shook with sobs, and Inoo was grateful Takaki didn’t put his arms around him, for he would be hysterical. “—‘m so sorry—Takaki, I’m so sorry.”  
Takaki hushed him, and Inoo couldn’t help himself. He buried himself in the warm cocoon of Takaki’s wonderful embrace, it was at that moment that everything felt so jumbled and nonsensical and confusing, but so perfect. So perfectly imperfect. But Inoo wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
It was gradual, but he was coming down from the high, from the illusion, which has yet to disperse. And only then he realised—  
  
‘Oh my God Takaki’s here and I just had a terrible nervous breakdown and Takaki’s—wait, he’s hugging me so tight and it can’t be real—I’m dying.’  
  
“Ta—Takaki? Wait.” Inoo effortlessly moved back to create a little distance from Takaki. The latter’s facial expression morphed into one of disappointment but the worry overpowered it almost immediately.  
  
“Are you okay?” The taller man opted instead; grabbed for his hand, thumb tracing the side of his hand almost gingerly, as if it’s frail to the touch.  
  
“I—I’m okay. Sorry you had to see that. It was—I was just—”  
  
“How long has this been going on?”  
  
“Um, three months? I don’t know, I didn’t count.”  
  
“After the accident.”  
  
Inoo deeply exhaled, as though attempting to swallow a big pill. “Yes, after that. Usually it’s milder, but—you triggered bits and pieces from the past and I just lost it.”  
  
Takaki looked apologetic but offered nothing in return, as if all this was his fault, while in actuality quite on the contrary.  
  
Inoo took a deep, deep breath, and let it out—slowly. Time seemed to drag on, but it was merely seconds. Inoo knew what he wanted, while he didn’t know what the other did, he wanted to find out. His hand, hesitant but surely travel up to touch the taller man’s hair, then dragging his fingers down and tugs it closer to himself.  
  
Takaki—which was, sufficed to say, flabbergasted, instinctively leaned closer.  
  
The younger man’s eyes fluttered closed, and only then Takaki could see how long his lashes were, and other bits of details that he wanted to store in his memory.  
  
Inoo slowly opened his eyes once more, looking squarely at Takaki’s face, he watched the taller man with a little bit more courage. And then the soft gentle whisper was uttered, “I don’t know if this is the right choice, Takaki. I don’t know what I want.”  
  
“Should we find out?” Their noses were touching, but neither party seemed inclined to continue.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
The younger felt a smile tugged on his lips, a genuine one.  
  
He would deal with Yabu tomorrow, but as of now, Inoo couldn't help but wanting to be selfish, and he was okay with that.  
  
“Well, first, you need to move out from his dump immediately.” Takaki offered, lightening the mood, and the smile that decorated Inoo’s pretty face transformed into a much more beautiful, out-of-this-world laughter.  
  
Takaki smiled as Inoo leaned in and gave his nose a cute gentle kiss. “I’d like that.”

 

 

 


End file.
